


oh darling, save the last dance for me

by aphwhales



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic Fluff, M/M, SpicyBBQ - Freeform, SpicyMaple - Freeform, Spicypuppy - Freeform, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), at two am in your kitchen, i guess, idk i cant tag bye, what the FUCK is the ship name for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphwhales/pseuds/aphwhales
Summary: Mostly, Edge ends up asleep by eleven with Rus curled against his front and then awake by three, usually with Rus, sometimes with just a warm patch.





	oh darling, save the last dance for me

**Author's Note:**

> this isnt great but... i Needed To Write the spicybbqs. im not that confident in my ability to write either of them so. PRacitce time.  
> they're good boys jim

Sleepless nights are common when he reaches the surface.  
There’s no longer a need for he and his brother to sleep in shifts anymore, so mostly, Edge ends up asleep by eleven with Rus curled against his front and then awake by three, usually with Rus, sometimes with just a warm patch. 

On bad nights, occasionally, there isn’t anything there, and he panics a bit. 

Tonight there’s a warm spot where Rus was and he relaxes when his claws grip the sheets there. The clock reads 2:37 in glaring red numbers. 

It makes Edge think of his magic and of the red calcified LOVE around his soul and he cringes and turns over. The bed is cold without Rus and he hates it. 

With a growl, he throws the blankets off and stomps towards the kitchen. It’s the only room in the apartment with a light on - therefore, Rus must be there, and Edge desperately needs some of what his brother has jokingly dubbed “the mutt’s puppy love”. 

He finds Rus sitting at their small kitchen table eating plain white bread, chasing it with spoonfuls of peanut butter. When the spoon is empty, he taps it against the table in an unknown rhythm that sounds to Edge like some song he heard on the car radio recently. 

Rus swallows. “mornin’ sunshine,” he greets, pushing his hood back a bit. He looks exhausted. Edge makes his way to the table and pushes some mail out of the way to lean against it. His hip touches Rus’s elbow, and every time Rus moves for the peanut butter, they’re jostled a bit. 

“you feelin’ okay?” Rus asks him eventually, when the loaf of bread is gone.

“I’m not quite happy I’ll have to get more bread this week,” Edge grumbles, before turning to Rus, fondness clear in his eyes. “But yes, I’ll manage.” 

“...sure?” 

“Absolutely sure.” 

Rus doesn’t do anything for a moment, just sucks on the end of his unlit cigarette - Edge hates when he smokes inside, and it’s a little early to go outside for it. Then, as if making a decision, he puts it down on the upturned lid of the peanut butter as if it were an ashtray and hauls Edge to the middle of the room. 

“What are you doing, you idiot?!” Edge squawks as Rus manhandles him into putting one hand on Rus’s hip and the other on his shoulder. 

“dancin’.” It’s a typical, short answer from Rus, but it makes Edge shut his mouth. Rus hums as he moves forward to lean his forehead against Edge’s collarbone as they sway in place. For a few moments, both skeletons are silent, save Rus’s quiet humming, until he interrupts it to say, “you seemed upset.” 

Edge huffs, places his head on top of Rus’s. “I wasn’t,” he replies, only slightly dishonestly, rubbing circles on Rus’s spine, still swaying. “But if I was, I think this would make it a lot better.”


End file.
